


A Midsummer's Dream...

by roseandheather



Category: Star Trek (2009), Star Trek: Enterprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-22
Updated: 2010-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:05:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/roseandheather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They hadn't gotten time alone together since the Enterprise sailed triumphantly into spacedock three months earlier." A remix of the My Gay Uncles universe by Robanybody, hosted at LiveJournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Midsummer's Dream...

The room was bright and glittering, music playing softly in the background as beings of various species conversed with each other and with Starfleet’s higher-ups. In a corner Chris Pike could see Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy, Commander Spock and Lieutenant Uhura engaged in conversation. Kirk was gesturing wildly, blue eyes feverish. He could see the glitter of amusement in Spock’s otherwise stoic face and McCoy’s stifled laugh. Uhura was cackling so hard she had her face pressed into Spock’s shoulder.

But he only had eyes for the man standing with them. Dressed in an Admiral’s finest, medals pinned to his chest, Jonathan Archer smirked at whatever story Kirk was telling him now… it could have been one of any number of stories from the Enterprise’s first five-year mission.

Chris caught his breath a little at the sight. He remembered another gathering, much like this one, just five years ago, when he and Jon had had a second date nearly thirty years after their first. It amazed him that Jon still affected him the same way – that rough-hewn handsome face and callused hands still lit fires in him everywhere they touched, and those eyes could undress him from across the room.

He was so lost in reverie that he never saw Archer bid goodbye to the Enterprise’s senior officers and make his way across the ballroom to where Chris was standing.

He _definitely_ noticed when arms slipped around his waist from behind and a hand crept down to subtly toy with his zipper.

His nerve endings flared to life and he trembled in Jon’s arms as hot breath whispered at his ear, “Wanna dance?”

He couldn’t stop the smile then, and he turned in Jon’s arms to run a hand through his partner’s hair. “Fuck yes.” His voice was rough with need, but he couldn’t resist the chance.

The music changed to an old 20th century ballad, and Chris moved easily into Jon’s embrace, resting his head on Jon’s shoulder and just floating in a haze of love and desire.

“Chris.” Jon’s voice shuddered huskily in his ear. “Look.” Jon nodded towards the other end of the dance floor, where Kirk and McCoy were dancing slowly. For once, Kirk had given up control, dancing with his eyes closed and clearly trusting the doctor to guide him safely. Nearby Spock and Uhura danced gracefully, Uhura with a soft smile on her face and Spock with eyes that were distinctly warm.

But Chris couldn’t focus on them for long, not with Jon’s fingers tracing circles on his back and his mouth nipping kisses along Chris’s jaw. Chris couldn’t help himself – he tilted his head back and let out a breathy moan. One hand came up to comb through Jon’s hair and the other arm tightened around the taller man’s waist.

And suddenly he just couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to be at home, in bed, with Jon fucking him into the mattress. It was the holidays, neither of them had work for the weekend, and they hadn’t gotten time alone since the _Enterprise_ sailed triumphantly into spacedock three months earlier. With the crew nearly ready to ship out again and most of the details taken care of, they finally had time for each other.

And _that_ idea just about shut down rational thought processes.

Chris yanked Jon out of the ballroom, and as soon as they were somewhere decently private he was all over him, lips and teeth and tongue, and then it was sloppy, openmouthed kisses that stopped Chris’s breath and made his heart spasm.

“I need you inside me. Goddammit, Jon, I need you inside me right fucking now. Right now.” He kissed Jon frantically, his throat and collarbone, and tossed up a leg to wrap it around Jon’s waist.  Then he got a better idea and jumped, wrapping both legs around, and then their cocks were pressing together and oh _shit_ it was all Chris could do not to come in his fucking pants.

Jon seemed to be in about the same condition – he was moaning and bucking and panting harshly, his hands cupping Chris’s ass and stroking his hair while he murmured nonsense into Chris’s ear about love and God and “_so fucking good._”

Chris eventually had the good sense to break apart long enough to get them to the aircar and set the autopilot for the Victorian house he and Jon now shared.

They practically spilled out of the ‘car, pressing together and gulping each other’s air. “_Jesus_, Chris,” Jon rasped hoarsely, his brown eyes burning with emotion. Completely undone, Chris buried his face in Jon’s shoulder and held on, shaking now. Even after thirty-five years, Jon could still strip him raw. He was astonished to feel the tears flooding down his cheeks, but Jon knew – always knew – and understood, and when he looked up to meet his partner’s eyes, he could see the same wetness gathering now. Jon reached out, gently wicking the tears away with his thumb, and bent down to press a soft kiss to Chris’s damp eyelids.

The mood seemed to change, then. Before they’d been all hot breath and frantic need, but now Jon’s kissing Chris like they’ve got an eternity for it, sweet and slow, kisses that promise _forever_ and _never leave you_ and _you’re all I need for the rest of my life_. Arms are sweeping in long, sweet strokes, lighting fires that seem more like a coal’s molten glow than a bonfire’s inferno. Chris cups Jon’s face in his hands and kisses him with everything he’s got, trying to say with lips and tongue what his choked-up throat won’t allow. He remembers their first time, a hot and sweaty tangle of bodies that should have been just another roll in the hay, but he knew even then, deep down, that Jon was it, that nothing in his life would feel so good again unless it was with this man.

And Jon remembers a proud young cadet, barely old enough to drink, fighting all the predictions to make captain in four years instead of five. How he was willing to argue when he was convinced he was right, eyes going hot and passionate as he defended his point – and how Chris’s mental agility had lit something never touched before even before he knew the young cadet’s name.

“You still intoxicate me, you know,” Jon whispers in between soft, sweet kisses. “Just the way you did thirty-fucking-five years ago when you were a genius with a smart mouth.” He can feel Chris shudder in his arms and buck his hips, and Jon lets out a curse and pants through the overwhelming urge to come before they’ve even gotten started.

They stumble up the stairs, falling gracelessly onto the bed and working impatiently at pants and shirts. By now they’re both hard and aching, and the first touch of cock on cock has them both whimpering and gasping. Finally, gloriously naked, Jon slides his way down Chris’s chest to mouth his balls gently, then lick and kiss Chris in a way that has the other man writhing and fretting against the pillow. High, keening sounds erupt from Chris’s throat, and he finally can’t take any more teasing. He pulls Jon up and whispers hotly, “Fuck me. Fuck me _now_.”

Well, Jon’s brain just about shorts out at that, but he manages to find the lube somehow, and Chris is so lost he’s rolled onto his belly. Jon corrects that in a moment, tugging Chris onto his back and murmuring, “No. Not like that. I need to see you.” Chris’s very soul seems to sing out in that moment, and he lets out a guttural moan at pleasure so intense it’s almost painful.

Soft kisses down his chest, his belly, ghosting across his abdomen and the creases of his thighs, avoiding the one touch he craves the most. Meanwhile long, agile fingers, cool and slick with lube, make their way between his thighs, trickling across his balls and feathering down his perineum, until slick wetness circles the clenching opening and one finger slips gently inside. Chris fairly well _bellows_ then, bearing down as hard as he can, grasping frantically with his anal muscles while his hands desperately clutch at the headboard. That finger wiggles tortuously, massaging his inner walls gently, moving perfectly with the contractions rippling through Chris’ tight channel.

Ever so gently, Jon slips the second finger in, scissoring faintly, stretching Chris just enough that pleasure will overwhelm the pain. But Chris is done waiting, his hips bucking wildly, legs spreading even wider, his head propped on a pillow while he watches Jon finger him, and _fuck_ if that isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever seen.   

And then there’s pressure so intense it seems to swallow him whole as the blunt head presses in, millimeter by millimeter, slipping past the first, tight ring of muscle.  Chris bears down again, frantically, pushing, impossibly, even harder than he had been, and the clenching walls increase their rhythm. Finally Jon’s balls-deep inside him, Chris’ legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer. Chris reaches between his legs to gently fondle Jon’s balls, and their eyes meet for a split second before they both look down to see the same sight – Jon’s cock disappearing into Chris, joined on the most elemental level, mind and heart, body and soul – and it’s too much, they take one last, gasping look at each other, and then Jon’s devouring Chris’s mouth like it’s the only oxygen left in the galaxy.

The first shocks hit him – a breathy moan becomes a shuddery, keening cry, and then the full magnitude of it blasts him off his feet – he lets out a guttural moan and his vision goes white-hot, and for a moment he _is _at Warp Ten, occupying every point in the universe all at once, and he comes untouched, just from a kiss and penetration and more love than he’s ever known he could feel.

Chris’s mind-altering orgasm sets off a frantic series of spasms around Jon’s still-engorged cock – he thrusts once, shallowly, and then Chris’s muscles spasming around him pull him over the cliff, and he comes with deep, soul-shattering cries, collapsing onto his lover’s body as his mind goes blissfully blank.

When Jon’s aware of anything again, Chris’s head is pillowed on his shoulder, a leg and an arm thrown carelessly across him. Hazel eyes blink sleepily at him, then meet his own. Jon smooths Chris’s hair, traces the fan of laugh lines at the corner of his eyes – and then they fall asleep, a tangle of sweaty, sticky bodies – the scent of sex surrounding them, fitting together like lovers kept apart too long.

 Fluid faintly crusts their stomachs, and there’s a wet spot under Chris’s arse where more of that same fluid has trickled between his thighs and onto the flannel sheets.

It doesn’t matter. They’re home. All the rest can wait.


End file.
